


You Should Have Been Paying Attention

by BigJellyMonster (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, No pairings yet - Freeform, Obscurial!Harry, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BigJellyMonster
Summary: Voldemort always thought that love was a weakness, but when he finds out that it is the key to taming an Obscurial, he rethinks his ideas. A power like that would be more than worth the effort.





	1. Chapter 1

When he first decided on his path in life, he knew what people would eventually call him.

Dark Lord

A thing to be feared, a thing to be hated, or a thing that some would strive to worship. He did all that he could to prepare for the title; traveled the world, learned almost forgotten magic, studied things that most would not dare even look at.

It would have been foolish of him to ignore the history of the Dark Lords who had tried before him. Many of their failings could prove to be useful to him in the future. He studied all of their techniques, the ones that worked, the ones that failed, and the ones that caused their demise.

For years, he prepared for his reign. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared to rule the wizarding world after all. One little mistake, and the next budding Dark Lord could be reading about him and learning form his failings. He would never let that happen, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to make sure of it.

One thing that had interested him, was Gellert Grindelwald’s attempts to control an Obscurus. It had taken him several months to track down his findings, but it was all worth it. His entire research ended up being a three hundred page journal that was about as big as his hand. It told of his attempts at controlling the Obscurial named Credence, and his quest to gain his trust. The key, Grindelwald was intent to point out, was love. Love them in a way that they so desperately wish, in the way that was denied them for so long.

He mentioned that the Obscurial had been denied any kind of affection at all; touch, praise, or any sort of kind word. Grindelwald was sure to provide the boy with everything that he could ever want. Although he did not know Credence was the Obscurial he had been searching for all along, he still had some measure of control over him. He mentioned that the boy did anything he had asked of him regardless of what it was, and when he found the task too difficult or he was unable to complete it, it caused him obvious distress.

The children who become Obscurial are from severe abusive environments and should be treated as such. Grindelwald suggested that if he ever were to try and gain an Obscurial’s trust and loyalty again, that he should be more careful as to make sure that he doesn’t carelessly betray them. He never got another chance.

Tom, thought that having an Obscurial on his side would be endlessly beneficial, but in the end foolish. He himself had never been able to be sincere in his affections for others, although they were all easily fooled. If he ever did receive the opportunity to gain the loyalty of an Obscurial, he did not know if he had the ability or the patience to control it.

Anyway, it would have been nearly impossible to find another one. Ever since the destruction of the Obscurial the journal mentioned, laws all around the world had been set in place to make sure that another one was _never_ created.

As the war progressed and he officially claimed the title of Dark Lord, Voldemort would often think back on the little journal and toy with the fantasy of how much more he could accomplish if he had one on his side. How easy it would be to eliminate and enemy, or to gain intel without anyone ever knowing what had happened or without anyone having the power to stop it. Grindelwald did say that he was never sure if the destruction of the Obscurial was final or not, and had always left him wondering.

That is why, from the moment he looked in to Harry Potter’s eyes, he knew exactly what he was. Through the reflection in the old and dusty mirror, he could not see the boy clearly, but when his host’s boy had turned to dust and he was a spirit once more, he could see Harry in his true form.

The boy was an Obscurial, and from the fact alone that he was not dead yet at the age eleven, proved he was a powerful one. He knew that gaining Harry’s trust would be at the top of his list once he returned to power. If he could not, then he would have to destroy the boy as soon as he possibly could. It would not due for that kind of power to be used against him by his enemies.

As the years passed, he was careful in every step he took in getting his body back. Using the boy’s blood was key as it would help strengthen the bond he wished to create. The only resource at his disposal, was only useful in small tasks as he was too weak and incompetent in doing anything else. He already had plans to gain the Potter boy’s trust, and he needed more information than what the Daily Prophet gave to him.

He relied on every little detail Barty Crouch Jr. gave to him during the school year. What food he liked, what were his habits, and anything strange that he had noticed. The results, were far from what he expected. The Potter boy did not outwardly show any signs of abuse, or the symptoms of an Obscurial that Grindelwald said he should have picked up first thing.

However, as Voldemort looked deeper and deeper into the information he was receiving, it was obvious what the boy was. He only ate enough to appease his friends, did well enough on his school work to be mediocre, and seemed to absorb any amount of friendly contact that was given to him, as little as that was. Still, he needed to know more, every little detail could prove to be crucial when the time came.

When the time came for the final task, he was actually nervous about the whole ordeal. Excited, of course, to get his body back, but nervous all the same. He never would have thought that he could ever get the chance to attempt something like this, and with his inexperience in dealing with children, or his hatred for Dumbledore and his laughable “love magic” he had no reason to try.

There did need to be some important questions answered as soon as he got the boy within his grasp. Such as why was he still able to cast magic when he was an Obscurial? He should have been nothing more than a squib at best. The second thing that was weighing on his mind, is how on earth has the boy not killed anyone yet, or at least not revealed himself. The pain and torment he has gone through alone should have been enough to make him want to rip apart anyone that threatened him. Voldemort thought himself lucky not to have been on the receiving end of his anger.

The boy finally arrived in the graveyard, he heard his body slam on the ground along with a surprising second sound of another body. A witness, a spare. How unfortunate.

His follower took care of the extra body with a deadly curse and a flick of his wand. Nothing was going to prevent him from getting his body back now. Wormtail was more aggressive in binding the boy, but I was nothing he couldn’t turn in his favor. The sound of Potter’s screams, and the agonizing sobs of his follower, followed him into the cauldron where he was sure he would be joining them in their cries of pain if it were not for the potion filling his lungs.

He felt himself stretch and grow in the most unnatural of speeds. The cauldron burned away and he was left floating in the air, the smoke becoming his clothes. When he was finally standing on his own two feet, he could not resist ignoring the other two near him in favor of examining his own body. It worked exactly as he wanted, and with pride he filled his lungs with precious oxygen for the first time in thirteen years.

Finally, he looked upon the boy who he had been obsessing over. He was shaking with fear, wide eyes staring at him as a man looks upon the devil himself. This would not prove helpful at all.

“Wormtail, why is the poor boy so tightly bound? He is our guest of honor after all. It’s rude to treat him with such disrespect,” Voldemort addressed him as though he were discussing the weather. He walked over to the boy who followed his every move carefully. “I’m going to get you down.” He informed him.

Voldemort slowly raised his hand, then waved it down. The gravestone holding the boy released him, and he would have fallen to the ground if it were not for the Dark Lord’s quick reflexes catching him in his arms. “Careful, now.”

The boy was shaking, staring at his own hand that gripped Voldemort’s arm like a life line. Almost unable to believe that it was real. “It’s alright,” Voldemort told him softly. “Are you hurt?”

Harry’s eyes darted up to his, all green and impossible to not compare to the curse he cast at him so long ago. Clearly, the boy was in shock, but that didn’t mean that Voldemort couldn’t still help him. He looked the boy over, and found his arm, and leg bleeding. His leg looked to be infected. An easy fix, one that would only serve him in the end. “Why don’t you sit down? You look awful.” Voldemort guided Harry so that he was sitting on the edge of the grave stone and then sat down next to him, his arm still wrapped around the boy.

“Wormtail, don’t just sit there, go and get him a potions for his injuries.” Voldemort scolded the whimpering man on the ground.

“M-My lord. P-Please…My hand. My hand.” Wormtail sobbed. Blood was pouring from the stump at the end of his arm. “Y-y-you promised.” The glare that Voldemort sent him had Wormtail whimpering once more and scurrying off into the large house behind him.

“May I see your arm, Harry?” Voldemort asked gently, and when Harry looked up at him in fear he quickly added. “You’re bleeding.”

Harry looked down at his arm and seemed to be surprised at the injury he found there, like he wasn’t sure where it came from. Carefully, Voldemort took Harry’s arm in his hand and slowly moved other hand over it. In moments, the deep cut had healed leaving nothing but smooth skin behind. “There,” Voldemort said lightly. “One down.” He placed the hand he used to heal his injury softly down on the skin.

Harry had not said anything this whole time. He looked up at Voldemort with both fear and uncertainty, unsure as to why he was just now being so kind to him. Harry never could have imagined that Voldemort would be so civil, so kind to him. It was easy to think that he was in a dream. With him sitting so close, and if he hadn’t known any better, he could have thought them old friends.

“You saved his life once before did you not?” Voldemort asked him. “He told me of how you protected him from Black and the werewolf’s wrath. They wanted to give him to the dementors, you thought differently. He betrayed your family, was the reason your godfather was left in Azkaban, and still you spared him.”

Harry looked like he wanted to comment, but his mouth felt too dry, and he still could not stop shaking. “And now, he has run to me, cut your arm, and sliced off his hand so that the Dark Lord could return,” Voldemort continued. “Do you regret your actions, Harry?”

Before Harry could even attempt to answer, the man they were discussing hobbled is way down to him. A vial of bright orange liquid in the only hand he had left. Wormtail shakily handed it to his master, blood still seeping out of his stump. “Master…Master, please,” He begged.

“Well, Harry?” Voldemort still looked at Harry, expecting an answer. When he received none, Voldemort took his wand and waved it over Wormtail’s stump. A silver hand formed itself in the place of his old one, and Wormtail’s whimpering instantly ceased. He admired his shiny new hand as though it were a wonderful prize to be won. “Thank you, Master. It is beautiful.”

Voldemort waved Wormtail away and turned his attention back to the boy next to him. “May I,” he asked while holding up the vial. Surprisingly, Harry nodded quickly. Voldemort pulled off the cork and applied the liquid onto Harry’s infected injury on his leg. Voldemort could see as Harry visibly relaxed as the wound on his leg began to heal. The pain must have been greater than he thought. “Better?” Voldemort’s lips twitched in what could only be resembled in a smile.

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” he finally spoke in a soft voice. His eyes darted over to the body of Cedric Diggory, his cold lifeless eyes looking back. “Why…” Harry seemed uncertain about what he wanted to say.

“Why what, Harry?” Voldemort prompted. Harry’s eyes did not leave the body of Cedric, so Voldemort answered “Why did Cedric die? He was not supposed to be here. You were supposed to arrive alone. I’m sorry to say, that I forgot about how noble you can be, even in the worst of times. This is not your fault.”

“He…He’s,” Harry’s voice shook and tears filled his eyes. “He wasn’t supposed to-”

“Shhh,” Voldemort gently brought Harry’s head closer to him resembling an embrace. “It’s alright, Harry. We can send him back to his family. They would be glad to know that has become of their son won’t they?”

Harry, who was not used to being held, did not know what to do. Especially since it was his supposed enemy holding him. Still, he could not deny that it felt good to have someone hold him in his current state. “But… He’s dead. They won’t be glad about that. They would be…be…” Harry argued. “He’s gone. He’s…”

“Harry, his family will always be left wondering what happened to him if we don’t send him back. Don’t you think his family deserves to know? Would you rather him stay here in the graveyard? It is appropriate considering the location, but would you think that it would be what he really wanted?” Voldemort questioned him.

“No…” Harry said uncertain, paused a moment, and then as though gaining more confidence, he said more certainly. “No. He should go home.”

“Good, I think so too.” Voldemort waved his hand and the Triwizard cup flew over to Cedric’s lifeless body and together they vanished. In the back of his mind, Harry noted that his only means of escape had just disappeared.

“Why am I not dead?” Harry asked nervously.

Voldemort looked down at the young teenager and thought about his response. He knew he should not lie, but he didn’t want to tell the entire truth either. Lying would only end up hurting them both in the end. “I need you, Harry. You possess a power that I could never dream to match, and in return, I am hoping that you would let me help you in return.”

“Power? What power? I am nothing. Ordinary. Less than ordinary. I still don’t even understand why you had tried to kill me so long ago. Please, I just want to go back,” Harry rambled. Once he starred talking he couldn’t seem to stop. “They will know I am gone, they will come looking for me, they will want me to go back, they will…”

“Do you want to go back, Harry,” Voldemort asked sincerely.

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” Harry answered quickly.

Voldemort stood up slowly and walked a few paces away from him, admiring the large tombstone next to his father’s. “Where do they send you when everything is said and done? When they have no more need for you to save the day. After facing me, twice now I hear, after fighting off dementors, saving lives again, and again, and again. Where to they put you?”

Harry knew the answer; he just didn’t want to say it out loud. His relatives. The reason he was such a freak, or perhaps his punishment for being one in the first place. He could never tell the difference. Voldemort walked in front of Harry and got down on his knees in front of him. Gently, he took his hands in his own.

“I could give you what you’ve always wanted,” Voldemort promised him.

“How do you know what I want. You don’t even know me. All you’ve ever done is try to kill me.” Harry accused.

“You’re right. You are absolutely right. But, I believe we can help each other, Harry. I can give you a place where you will be _safe._ Do you even know what that is like, Harry? To be safe?”

Harry already knew the answer, but once again he didn’t need to day anything. No, he had never known what it was like to feel safe. If he wasn’t at his relatives house, watching his every move to try to not make them angry, he was at Hogwarts where the staff, students, and even people on the outside either hated him or wanted him dead.

“I can give that to you. I can help you, Harry. Even teach you if you wanted. But most of all, I will be as honest as I can be. I will tell you everything I know. If there is anything that is truth between us, is that I have never hidden anything from you or lied to you. Can your headmaster say the same?” Voldemort continued.

To Harry, the offer sounded too good to be true. His worst enemy calling a truce and not only offering to protect him, but to give him real answers? Did the Dark Lord even know what kind of monster he was?

As if he was reading his mind, Voldemort said “I am a Dark Lord, Harry, for a reason. I didn’t get to where I am without understanding what I was getting into. I am powerful, maybe you have heard differently from your Headmaster, but there is nothing I couldn’t do when I was at my full power, and there is nothing that anyone could do to stop me. Not then, and not now. I am offering you my protection, and my help. Something that I do not give lightly. Let me help you.”

Harry looked into Voldemort’s eyes wide, not with fear, but with hope. Something he had not felt in a long time.

“I know what you are,” Voldemort moved his hands from Harry’s and placed them on his shoulder. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

The words were like water to a man dying of thirst, and he finally heard them from his enemy, or not enemy if he so chose. Tears fell from Harry’s eyes and in a desperate attempt to grab onto what was being offered to him, he tearfully said, “Yes.”

And the Dark Lord Smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

The body of Cedric fell to the ground and the only thing anyone could do at first was stare. Moments before, everyone was so lively, so happy. Expecting either Cedric or Harry to walk out of the maze with the cup in the air. Not appear out of thin air onto the ground motionless. It wasn’t until Cho Chang screamed that anyone moved.

She was the first to understand he wasn’t getting up. Other’s questioned if he was just hurt or stunned, but when the agonizing wails of his father confirmed their worst fears, they understood as well. Instead of panicking like the audience or despairing like Cedric’s father, Albus Dumbledore took the cup in his hand and cast all sorts of spells over it.

“A Portkey. The Cup was a Portkey,” Dumbledore turned to the very man who was supposed to have placed the cup in the maze, but found him missing. Alastor Moody was gone. “Where is he? Where is Alastor,” Dumbledore roared. He already understood the gravity of the situation. Turning to Hagrid, and several other professors he commanded. “Search the maze. Find Harry Potter as fast as you can. The rest of you, find Alastor Moody, or someone suspicious in the castle. We may have just discovered who had been causing us so much trouble this year.”

The professors and staff quickly did as they were told without question. “The rest of you, back to your dormitories. Do not leave your dorms for any reason.” With that, the headmaster left them to find out where his missing defense professor had gone.

In the forbidden forest, Barty Crouch Jr. was already getting away. He had a case in his hand, and his hood over his head. His legs were taking him as fast and as far as they could. A broom would have been preferable, but he could not fly around the trees fast enough, and if he flew too high someone might have noticed him.

Luck and good preparation was the only thing he had going for him at the moment. If he had stayed in the school, someone would have undoubtedly suspected him. Before the boy even touched the cup, he snuck out of there as fast as he could. With him being the last person to have had a hand on it and it was suddenly missing along with the boy who lived? He would be the first one suspected of foul play, Alastor Moody’s famous and well trusted name or no.

He ran and ran and ran until he was _so close_ to the edge of the Hogwarts wards where he could have apparated and no one would have been able to stop him. But, his luck chose that moment to abandon him, and he tripped over a tree root that had suddenly sprung up from the ground.

His case flew from his hand and landed hard on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him. It was pure instinct that had him roll over just in time to dodge a curse that made a hole in the ground where he previously was.

“Do you really think you can escape that easily?” Severus Snape threw another curse at him and Barty ran behind the tree just in time. “I’ve been telling Albus it was you for _months!_ I noticed the second you left the school.”

Barty left his hiding spot behind the tree momentarily to cast his own curse at Snape, who blocked it with east. “It doesn’t matter now,” Barty taunted. “The Dark Lord has returned! Can’t you feel it Severus? He will be more powerful than ever! Filthy traitors like you will be the first to die. That is, if he doesn’t punish you first.”

Another spell, and Snape lit the one of the ancient trees of the forbidden forest in flames, its grand size providing enough fire and light to signal anyone within three hundred miles to their location. Barty scrambled away from it as quickly as he could, throwing up a shield just as Snape cast another curse at him. “Where is he?” Snape spat. “What did you do with him?”

“Where do you think? With our beloved Lord,” Barty laughed back at him. “If he is still sane when I get there, I’ll be sure to tell him how much you pretended to care for him in the end. Tell me, is this all an act or did you suddenly grow a heart?”

Instead of answering, Severus focused on subduing Barty. Every time Barty would try to make a run for it, Snape stopped him. Barty was having trouble fighting off Snape’s advances, and when Snape finally got the upper hand on him he was far to exhausted to continue fighting.  His wand was kicked away from him like an unwanted toy.

“Was it worth it,” Snape asked him. He couldn’t understand why someone would risk so much for a man who was merely a ghost of himself.

Barty looked in Snape’s eyes. He had the look of someone who had finally found hope after a life filled with darkness. Someone who had found a cause and was willing to die for it. “It was. It truly was. If you are smart enough, you will run back to him begging for forgiveness. No… beg for _his_ forgiveness. I’ve seen what you’ve all done to him. He will make him kill you all before long.” Barty sneered. “They will feed me to the dementors, but that is a noble way to go compared to what _he_ is going to do to you. I just wish they will let me live long enough to see it.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Snape demanded. He pulled Barty up by the collar of his robes and shook him. “Where did you send Potter you mad bastard!”

Snape tried to use legilimency on him, but it was like wading through a fun house. All of his memories were mixed or broken. The only true clear thoughts were of love for his master and his need for revenge against his father.

Barty was laughing by the time the Aurors came. They bound him and carried him away to be questioned. Snape told only Dumbledore the full extent of what Barty had told him. “He was certain that Potter was still alive. Although, he might not be himself when we find him.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, our most important task is finding young Harry,” Dumbledore replied writing letter after letter requesting the members of the order to aid him.

Minerva McGonagall slammed her hand down on the desk and accused “I told you something like this would happen! You used the boy like a piece of meat and you are just now preparing for the consequences of that?”

Dumbledore stopped writing and looked at the angry professor with an unimpressed glare. “Now is not the time to point fingers Minerva. Go help your students, they must be sick with worry. You as well Severus.” He dismissed them as he turned back to his work. McGonagall stormed her way out of the office shouting “This is the second time I have warned you about his safety and the second time I was right! There might not even be a next time if we are unlucky!”

In another part of the world, Harry sat on a couch in the Riddle Manor. Lord Voldemort sat next to him and without his wand, properly bound Harry’s leg. When they had walked to the manor, Harry’s leg, although feeling much better than it had before, still pained him to walk and he had to lean on the Dark Lord to get inside the Manor.

Wormtail brought him a tray of his favorite foods not to long after. At Voldemort’s insistence, Harry tried to eat a few bites, but found his stomach cramping in protest. “It’s alright,” Voldemort calmed Harry when he looked guilty for not eating. “You’ve had an eventful day. I don’t blame you.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry put his hands in his lap.

“Don’t be. We can talk now, hmm?” Voldemort shifted his body so that he was facing Harry. “This won’t be an easy discussion, but I’m sure you can pull through. You’ve been so brave so far, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help it when he felt his cheeks heat up at the praise. He didn’t get to hear such genuinely nice things about him often, and it was nice to hear them now even in the oddest of places. “What did you want to talk about?”

“There was… something I had noticed about you. Something… different. I first noticed when you were protecting the stone from me in your first year,” Voldemort explained. Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but was interrupted. “Once again, proof of your nobility and bravery. Who would dare go up against the Dark Lord even as a shade of himself?”

Voldemort leaned back against the couch and continued. “I got more evidence of it when my death eater started giving me reports about you. Now that I can feel you magic in person I have my proof. Thankfully, I knew what to look for otherwise we both might be in trouble right about now.” Voldemort gave a small smile when he said that.

“Different?” Harry asked uncertainly. He was always told that his differences were what made him a freak. Suddenly, that nice feeling he got when he had been complimented had vanished. Replaced with something ugly and unwanted. No one liked it when he acted different from what they wanted him to be, especially not the wizarding world.

Voldemort sat forward and placed his full attention on Harry. His eyes trained on his face, looking for every little movement. “Harry, do you know what an Obscurial is,” he asked calmly. At Harry’s confused look, his eyes softened. “An Obscurial is a magical creature, more like a parasite actually. It is born when a young witch or wizard suppresses their magic for whatever reason. It turned their magical core into something dark. Usually it’s from an abusive environment, or a long traumatic event. Tell me Harry, has anything ever happened to you when you were angry or scared?”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He eerily remembered Hagrid asking him the same question when he was telling him he as a wizard for the first time. Even then, he thought of all the times horrible things had happened when he was scared or angry. Things would explode, people would end up hurt, and sometimes in the dead of night when he felt completely hopeless and alone, he would swear that he felt less pain. Felt less scared. Felt less solid…

“Normally, they don’t live past the age of ten and have the magical capabilities of a squib. That’s why I had such trouble figuring out what you are, believing what you are.” Voldemort looked at Harry as though he were a beautiful work of art. “You have once again defied the laws of magic. You have lived after the world has told you to stop and you are more powerful than anyone could ever know or hope to understand.”

“I…I…” Harry didn’t know how to answer. There was too much to take in. He shouldn’t even be alive, he was supposed to be a squib, he might not even be human…. Harry felt his breathing getting faster and faster and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wasn’t allowed to be great, he wasn’t allowed to be noticed or different. It was one thing that the Dursleys had pounded into his head over and over again.

They didn’t like it when he drew attention to himself.

“It’s alright, Harry.” Voldemort wrapped his arms around his shaking form. “That is why I am here. To help you through this, to help you understand.” Harry found himself clinging to his robes as though they were the only thing keeping him tied down to the earth. “Who did this to you?” He asked as if he didn’t already know. But, Lord Voldemort knew everything, or so he liked to say.

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t allowed to tell.

“Harry, if you want me to help you, you need to talk to me,” He pulled the shaking boy in closer, and he seemed to want to sink into his arms. “How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t tell me who hurt you?”

Harry started shaking more, gripping tighter to Voldemort’s robes. “It.. my relatives. They didn’t like my _freakishness_. I didn’t understand what I was doing, only that I had to stop. I had to stop or they wouldn’t ever like me.” Harry was openly crying now. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“How did you stay hidden for so long?” Voldemort asked quietly, almost as if to himself. “You are so strong and so brave, but you should have been found out by now.”

Harry’s eyes shut tight. “I knew…” He whispered in an answer. “I knew there was _something_ wrong with me. I’ve always known.” Voldemort pulled away so he could hear him better, and Harry looked almost regretful at the action. “People would get hurt when I would get upset. I could never stop myself, I didn’t know how to control it.” Harry started to feel frantic, trying to explain himself. “I would just feel so… so…”

“Shh…” Voldemort tried to calm him by once again pulling him close. Harry reacted better than he had hoped, his head fit neatly under Voldemort’s chin. Their chests were pressed close together and they could feel each other’s heart beat against their own. Harry could never in his life recall being held like this, like someone’s very arms were going to keep the evil of the world at bay. It was the only thing keeping him from loosing his grip on his own mind.

“I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t do anything. But, when I got to school, I found this potion that would make you stop feeling those things. I only did it at school, I was never brave or scared when I fought for everyone’s safety. I _couldn’t_ be.” Harry admitted.

When he first arrived at the school, he had clung to the first person who was kind to him like a fish took to water. The first time looking through his potions book, he had found a potion that would suppress emotions. Not enough to make him emotionless, but enough that he wouldn’t find himself having dreams of ripping things apart or waking to find out he was miles away from his cupboard.

“Ketiadaan. The Nothingness potion. It is a dangerous thing to be brewing for a young child. Even more so to drink it so often.” Voldemort thought outloud.

Harry nodded. “I got to be normal for once. I didn’t take much, just enough to get me through the day.” Harry looked up at the Dark Lord with a sorrowful look. “But, then my name came out of the cup…”

“And your school betrayed you,” Voldemort finished, and Harry flinched. “How long until the potion wears off?”

“It… it’s full effects will be gone in less than an hour,” Harry said rather frightened. “I need to take more or I might hurt someone again.”

Harry could not see the smile that found its way onto the Dark Lord’s face. “Harry, those potions will only make you worse the more you use them. If you feel yourself… falling apart, come get me. I promise I will help you through it.”

“But what if I can’t?” Harry pulled away and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“You’ll have to trust me. As much as we have disagreed, I have never lied to you, Harry. That is something I am positive that others cannot say.” Voldemort gave him a kind smile. But for right now, rest is more important. Follow me, we will find a bed for you.”

Harry nodded and regretfully let go of the dark lord. He followed him up the stairs and into a small room which was was dusty and stale, like no one had been in there for years. “Well this won’t do…” Voldemort waved his was and life was brought to the room. It smelled clean, the drapes on the window brightened in color, the dust that had integrated itself on the bed vanished, and a set of pajamas that looked brand new flew out of the closet.

Taking the clothes in his hands, Harry looked at them as if they were the strangest thing he had ever seen. The Dark Lord giving him pajamas? The day was getting stranger and stranger.

“Get comfortable, I will be back in a moment,” With that, Voldemort left Harry to his privacy. His plans were going better than he had hoped. The boy, even with the suppressant, was so desperate for love and affection, he was clinging onto every kind word the dark lord had to offer him. It was too perfect.

Wormtail hovered at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for orders from his master. Now that he had returned, he had no use for the traitor. In fact, he was more dangerous alive than dead. If anyone discovered him, then there would be question in to black’s innocence. Which means that if there was even a chance for Harry to return to his godfather, he might take it. Voldemort would not let that happen.

“Wormtail,” Voldemort sneered. “Where is Nagini?”

“I do not know my lord. Last I saw, she was hunting,” Wormtail would not meet his eyes out of fear.

“Well, go get her.” Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal.

“But my Lord, what about the other Death Eaters? Surely they need to be here for the night of your resurrection,” Wormtail questioned.

“Harry has had a rough day. You wouldn’t think about putting him through more would you? After everything you have already done to him,” Voldemort guilted. “Come now, would you be so heartless to your best friend’s son?”

Wormtail looked away in shame. “No, my lord.”

“Good. Find Nagini.” Voldemort left him standing there at the bottom of the stairs wallowing in his own guilt. He returned to Harry’s room and gently knocked on the door.

“C-come in,” Harry called softly.

Voldemort opened the door and saw Harry standing in the middle of the room, the bed untouched. He looked uncomfortable in the room, like he didn’t want to mess anything up. Since he had already made such progress with the boy, Voldemort decided to go ahead and test his control over him. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of power the boy had. 

He appeared to Harry, worried. A perfect mask of his true intentions.

“What’s wrong,” Harry asked him.

“Wormtail. I was going to wait to gather my Death Eaters but, he seems rather eager to get the party started.” Voldemort walked around Harry to pull the covers back from the bed. “He is rather proud of himself for giving me my body back and wants to gloat about it to the others.”

“He… is proud of himself,” Harry said bewildered.

“Of course, Harry, he was the one to give your family up to me in the first place. He was bragging to anyone who would listen to him for days. I’m not surprised he would want to do it again. The one thing he was ever good at is betraying others. I’m not so keen on trusting him now for it,” Voldemort patted the pillow as a sign for Harry to get into the bed.

“He… Is happy he betrayed my family?” Harry did as Voldemort directed and crawled into the bed with his back against the pillow.

Voldemort looked at him in pity “There are people who _are_ bad in the world. You must have realized that by now. I am not a good man either, I just make good choices every once in a while. This time, they are a benefit to you.”

“Are you going to call your Death Eaters tonight,” Harry asked the blankets gripped tight in his hands.

“I might, but you will not be there for it. There are too many people there who would hurt you and did I not promise to keep you safe? You can stay in here and rest, they do not need to know of your existence. Now come on, we can speak more in the morning. It will be rough on you without the help of your potion I am sure. Come find me when you wake up.” Harry scooted down in the bed and Voldemort tucked him in. Another action that Harry had no other memory of and was already cherishing the moment against his better judgment.

“I will see you in the morning. Get some rest.” Voldemort turned out the light and shut the door behind him as he left the room. Feeling accomplished, he walked back down the stairs and began looking for his worthless follower. He found him, not to far away in the graveyard searching for his beloved Nagini just like he had ordered him too. “Wormtail,” He said rather loudly making him jump. “I’ve changed my mind. Give me your arm. Let’s see who is brave enough to answer my call…”

Snape was sitting in his room staring out the window, when he felt his arm flare in excruciation pain. One so familiar, but had not felt in thirteen years. The Dark Lord was calling him and he had no choice but to answer.

It was not difficult getting out of the castle wards, everyone was confined to their rooms until further notice. He apparated in a graveyard where several familiar faces hidden partially behind masks were already waiting. The Dark Lord leaned casually against a large gravestone in the shape of the grim reaper himself. It was a sight only found in a nightmare.

“Welcome my friends, so many of you have decided to join me. More have chosen to stay away. No matter, they will be dealt with soon enough.” Voldemort stood up to his full height and walked into the middle of the circle the death eaters formed around him. “I haven’t seen you all in so long. I hope you haven’t missed me too much.”

Some of the Death Eaters stood up straighter, others shifted from one foot to the others. “I think…I am disappointed. Not one of you tried to find me. Crabbe...” A cruciatus curse had him on the ground screaming so loud, Snape wanted to cover his ears but did not dare to. “Goyle.” He was next on the ground the same as Crabbe before him, their screams were sure to wake the muggles in the town below if there were not wards surrounding them.

He looked ready to curse the rest of them, but stopped when he laid eyes on Pettigrew who was sitting on a small gravestone outside the circle, watching them all with a smirk. “Of course there were some of you who remained faithful after all this time. One, who has still not returned to me from infiltrating the castle. Tell me Severus, where is my dear Barty?”

Snape who show no outward appearance of his fear said clearly “He has been captured by the aurors and is awaiting trial. He claimed to have been acting on your behalf.”

“Ah, a pity then. He has proven himself to be my most loyal. Make sure he gets home safe, would you? I don’t want one of my dear friends to be left to the hands of the dementors.” Voldemort instructed him like he was asking him merely to pick up groceries.

“Yes, my lord,” Snape bowed.

“That goes for the rest of you. Barty Crouch Jr. was far greater a Death Eater than then rest of you. Only rival to Wormtail here…” All eyes fell onto the ex-marauder. “He is the reason I am here tonight. He found me. Out of _fear,_ but still he found me. Even helped return me to my body. That is more than any of you have done for me since my fall.”

Once again, they all looked nervous. One that Snape recognized fell to his knees in front of their Lord. “Please my lord, have mercy. We did not know you still lived, if we had-” He was cut off by a cruciatus curse, thrown against a gravestone making it crack in two.

“You beg for mercy after you have abandoned me? You come here now out of fear, not loyalty. That is something I will not tolerate. Something I will not forgive, not from those who should be my most loyal. Fear will drive you to once again abandon me. Once again to run and hide among the light side, cowering at their feet.” Snape looked over to Pettigrew who was still smirking at the scene in front of him. The spell was released and the man did not get back up. The only sign he still lived was from the small and hoarse breaths he took.

Voldemort walked back to the gravestone that held the image of death and brushed the tip of its scythe with his fingers, as though temporarily recalling a memory. “But there is one who joins me now, who holds no fear of me. Has never feared me. He even was the key in my resurrection and will be the most powerful among my army.” He smiled, a sight Snape never wanted to see again, and turned back to his followers.

“He is one, who does not forgive traitors lightly. Unlike me, he will not hesitate to end you if he discovers you have turned your back on him,” Voldemort’s eyes turned to Wormtail. “But of course, you wish to see proof of his power. Look here he comes now.”

Harry was almost asleep when he heard the screams. Curiosity had him get out of bed and head to the window. He could see clearly each Death Eater as they arrived in the graveyard. Some of them he did not know, but a few he recognized. One he knew the second his feet touched the ground. He never did trust Snape.

As Voldemort addressed and tortured some of his followers, Harry’s eyes were trained on Snape. He could already feel his blood boil looking at him standing amongst the Dark Lord’s followers. But, he followed the rest of the Death Eater’s gazes as they turned their attention to Wormtail. He saw the man’s smirk and pride as he was addressed as though it were an honor. As though his act of betrayal were something to be praised. He had spared him after he had turned his family over to a murderer and even stopped his ex-best friends from giving him over to a fate worse than death and this is the thanks he gets?

His godfather is still on the run from the ministry and here he is helping bring together the army he was supposed to be fighting against. That is when Harry felt something he had not in a very long time in all of their glory.

Rage.

Hurt

Betrayal.

And now, a thirst for blood.

His emotions tore him apart until he was nothing more than a shadow, sharp wisps of himself forming a dark mass in the air. The new form twitched and stretched like a cat who had been resting too long. In this state, his goal was clear. His emotions were in control rather than his thoughts.

He wanted nothing more than to _killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill_

The wall blasted open as he forced his way through. His shape flew into the air quickly growing into a massive size and then pulling down like a blanket on a hook. The only warning Wormtail got before he was snatched into the air, was a loud and inhuman screech. The betrayer’s body was thrown onto the ground and then soared into the air. He did not even get a chance to scream as the life, and magic were sucked out of him by the parasite.

The Obscurial dropped his body to the ground like an unwanted toy. It screeched and twitched again, all of the onlookers to shocked to move. It’s attention was drawn to Snape as he took a single step back. The Obscurial looked to be ready to attack again and even made a small move towards a stunned Snape, but before it could the calm and demanding voice of the Dark Lord said “Harry…”

Its mass moved slightly towards Voldemort. “Harry, you are supposed to be in bed. Go back inside.” It screeched at him like a child arguing with its parent. “Harry…” Voldemort said soothingly, a hand reaching out to the black mass. Slowly, the sharp tendrils turned soft, and the mass slowed in its motions. A small tendril reached out to Voldemort’s hand in recognition. Twitching once again, the dark mass flew back into the manor.

The Death Eaters did not draw breath. The mutilated body of Peter Pettigrew lay on the ground between them. “You see my friends. Do not betray me ever again. Harry Potter does not take kindly to betrayal.” Voldemort’s eyes turned to Snape’s who now looked back with open fear. “And he will not hesitate to destroy those who do.”

Every one of the Death Eaters bowed so low that their heads touched the ground. They were in awe of the control their lord had over the dangerous and deadly creature. Surely, the war was already in their favor. None of them doubted their master’s power anymore, and they would be sure to do everything in their power to please him and earn their forgiveness.

“Give the body to Nagini would you Lucius? She has always wanted to eat a rat as big as she was,” Voldemort smirked at the bowing man. Nagini, who had just returned from her hunt, slithered up to her master so he could pet her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate some feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

Harry did not realize how much he had been holding back this whole time. The potion wore off and it was like a barrier had been lifted on his mind. Like his spirit had been trying to break free of chains that had been holding him back mentally and magically.

His emotions were now on rampage and was preventing him from being solid again. He clung to the wall like a spider web, his shadow form constantly moving in a slow unpredictable pattern.  So many thoughts and emotions that had been dulled to him before, returned with full force. Had he been so desperate for love that he had clung to Voldemort like that?

What would he do now that he was free of his mental cage? He felt true fear, something he had not known since before his life as a wizard. Where he solid, it would have clung to his heart and crushed his lungs.

He could not think clear enough to form proper thoughts, he only knew the fear he felt. All of those people had seen him kill Wormtail, his professor included. If he went and told Dumbledore, what would they do? He had kept his little secret for so long, would the wizarding world think him a monster if they found out?

There was a knock at the door, and the Dark Lord walked in. Harry didn’t understand the emotions he felt towards him, his thoughts were seemingly unreachable enough as it was. He was angry at him, scared of him, but underneath it all a there was a feeling of safety, like Voldemort had a voice he could trust. But, he couldn’t think clearly enough to understand why.

“Harry, you should be in bed,” Voldemort lightly scolded. The large shadow mass did not react to his words, choosing instead to cling to the walls.  Voldemort slowly reached out to it, but snatched his hand away when some of the wisps started twitching towards him threateningly. “Now, now. That is no way to behave.”

Though it did not make another move towards the Dark Lord, the mass it was hissing at him. “Are you upset with me,” Voldemort inquired. “I am sorry that I could not stop you sooner if that is what you want to hear. But, I think you were in the right for what you did to him. I am proud of you for finally giving that rat the justice he deserves. Even more so for listening to me when it was over. A few more moments and your potions professor might have met the same fate.”

The shadow slowed in its motions like it was listening to him speak. “It is alright Harry. No one here blames you. Especially not me. You don’t have to hide who you really are if you don’t want to.” At his own words, Voldemort got an idea. “You really must be getting to bed now. The day has been long and tiring and you will feel better in the morning.” He walked over to the bed and held up the covers. “Come on, now.”

Hesitantly, almost as if it were uncertain and confused, the mass made its way over to the bed and shrank it’s self so it would fit in a small area on the mattress like a cat curled up by a warm fire. Voldemort let the blanket fall over the shadow so that it was completely covered. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? I will see you in the morning.”  Voldemort left the room but not without fixing the giant hole in the wall that the Obscurial made on its previous departure. Once it looked good as new, Voldemort shut the bedroom door behind him.

He made his way into the dining room. His inner circle sat around the large table, some still shaking with fear or the after effects of the cruciatus curse. They all stood as he entered the room and did not sit down until he took his place at the head of the table.

“My lord,” Lucius Malfoy was the first one to speak. “How is it you have taken control over the Obscurial? Such an act is unheard of, impossible even. It is a miracle you have managed to achieve it.”

Voldemort tilted his head and looked at Lucius. “A miracle you say? Is it a miracle you still have such a high reputation in the wizarding world? Is it a miracle you are still alive rather than food for the worms in the earth? No, I don’t think so. It is knowledge, skill and choice that has taken us where we are. With the knowledge I have of you and the skills I have acquired,” Voldemort held up his hand towards Lucius and squeezed as if he were chocking him. Lucius’s face twisted in pain, blood stared dripping form his nose. “I could _choose_ to change my mind about sparing you.” Voldemort put his hand back down. “Or not. It’s as simple as that.”

No one moved to help Lucius as he struggled to catch his breath and coughed up a small amount blood in his hands. The echoes of his struggling breath sliced through the eerily silent room causing all the unpunished death eaters to tense up with dread.

“How is it the boy-who-lived became an Obscurial? From what the wizarding world has been told, from what I have been told, he was living happily spoiled with his relatives,” Snape spoke up. “Albus Dumbledore assured the world that he was safe and happy. How is it that you have seen the truth my lord?”

“Why do you care Severus? Have you not been treating the boy with the same hatred as you did his father? You have helped him grow in his power, I do not know if I should thank you, or let him kill you right now. You are lucky I still have need of you.” Voldemort sneered. “His condition was not easy to spot but I was fortunate enough to have a glimpse of it in his first year. All I needed was proof, and that was easy to find.”

“My lord, he is your enemy, he is the one who destroyed you in the first place,” a death eater at the end of the table spoke boldly. “Why not kill him now?”

Snape pinched his nose in irritation and snapped. “You idiot, don’t question his motives now unless you want to be cruciated.”

“Why indeed? Tell me was I the one to help turn the boy in to what he is?” Voldemort asked his audience. No one responded. “No, I only killed his parents. I did not place him with people who would hate him and his magic. I did not force him to suppress his magic. I did not enforce the horrors that his relatives and school has put him though, I have only been there to see the end results. What he has done, has either been by choices influenced by Dumbledore or from direct control of him.”

Snape did not want to listen, but his face still held his mask and he dare not look away.

“Who wouldn’t flock to our side once they learn of what the ministry and the light side has done to him? They will demand revenge on his behalf, and we will be there to give it to them,” Voldemort smiled cruelly. “They won’t stand a chance.”

* * *

 

Several hours later, Severus walked into the headmaster’s office looking clearly shaken. He had debated on if or not he should tell the Headmaster the whole truth. If he did not, then he would be able to better prove himself to the Dark Lord, but then he would never receive the answers he needed. Telling the truth would not reassure his position on the light side, but he would have to try to see through Dumbledore’s lies to find out the truth about the boy.

It is true, he had never treated the Potter boy with any sort of kindness, even so far as to say he had been needlessly cruel to him on several occasions. But to hear that he had been abused to the point of becoming an Obscurial? If he did not see the truth with his own eye and almost died doing it, he would have sneered at the thought. There would have been no way that James Potter’s son was nothing but a spoiled brat. It looked like his hatred of the man would end up being the death of him.

“Sir,” Snape announced as he walked into the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore was still awake, a tired look in his eyes. “Sir, I have news.”

Dumbledore lifted his head from his hands. “I hope it is good news?”

“The boy is alive and unharmed. He is with the Dark Lord as we speak.” Snape informed him.

“That is… good, but unsettling. I would have expected him to have been killed or worse by now.” Dumbledore admitted.

“He intends to use the boy against you. Apparently, he has quite the convincing case to sway him to his side,” Snape continued. “I think that the boy might actually listen to him.”

“I don’t think so, Severus. The boy has always proved to be loyal and true. Always making the right choices in the end. He would not willingly join the man who killed his parents no matter what he tempted him with.” Dumbledore said with certainty.

“What makes you so sure? Voldemort has information that could prove you wrong. If he is right…”

“He is not,” Dumbledore snapped.

Snape looked into Dumbledore’s eyes desperately trying to seek truth in his words. What made him so sure? “He says that the boy was abused by his relatives, and the boy is desperate to live anywhere other than there. Sir, if that’s true then he would be able to manipulate the boy into doing anything he wanted. If we don’t know the extent of what his life was like there we would have no chance.”

“You say it yourself, the boy is spoiled by his aunt and uncle. What makes you change your mind? I have seen the boy’s home. I had sent someone there to watch him since I placed him on their door step. Voldemort is obviously lying to his followers. But why?” Dumbledore seemed to ponder the thought.

“You have had someone watching him? Who?” Snape demanded.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. “You couldn’t possibly have developed a fondness for the boy, now? This is the last time I will tell you. Voldemort is lying. Harry has had a pleasant childhood with his family. There is no reason for you to worry.”

Snape glared at the old man in front of him. Snape saw the truth with his own eyes, it even tried to kill him if it were not for the interference of Voldemort. He wanted to tell Dumbledore what he had seen, but a part of him was eager for petty revenge. “If you say so,” He outwardly calmed himself. He would wait until the truth was ready to attack the headmaster as well.

He left the headmaster’s office and returned to his room. With what Dumbledore had told him, he had the perfect opportunity to offer a token to beg forgiveness form Harry. All he had to do was find out who was the witch or wizard was who had been watching him all of these years. If he offered them up, he just might live to see the end of the war.

* * *

 

Barty Crouch Jr. sat wet and shivering inside one of Azkaban’s cells. It was high enough that he could feel the full strength of the wind as it blew through the bars of his cell, but low enough that he could feel the spray of the water from below.

“A room with a view” they called it. Bars ran along the full extent of the outside walls. He could see land not too far off in the distance, a painful reminder that he was trapped in the cold cell. Wards prevented him from even slipping a hand through the bars so he couldn’t even have his fingertips touch freedom. It was a torturing taunt.

He knew that he should have spent the last thirteen years in this cell anyway, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Before, he was begging like a child at his father’s feet to prevent him from being brought to Azkaban. Now, he sat in his cell with pride. His master had returned, and he was the reason for it. He would be a hero among the Death Eaters. “If only my father was alive to see this,” He chuckled to himself.

The Dementors glided by his cell regularly, thinking they would be able to feed on his happiness. But he knew the trick to surviving in this living hell. He did not focus on his happiness, though he desperately wanted to. Instead, he focused on other things; the color of the walls, the smell of the sea, the feel of his clothes.

Still, he could do nothing to stop the chill they brought with them. The wizards who brought him to his cell were not kind enough to bring him a blanket to help fight it off, or return to his cell in favor of letting the dementors keeping him company. Sometimes, he thought that they would do well in the Dark Lords army. They seemed to enjoy being particularly cruel to the ones they thought beneath them.

He regretted every time he had a moment of hope. Each time, a Dementor would rush to his cell to suck it up like a man starved. He did not know how long he would last in this cell. His chances of retaining his soul and what sanity he had left were dwindling down by the second.

He heard footsteps at the end of the hall and growing louder with each step. At first, he thought he was already losing his mind. Dementors did not have feet after all. What reason did anyone have to visit him now? He was to await trial within the next few days, and they made it clear that no one was to visit him before then.

A man in a hood walked in front of his cell, an unmoving body that Barty did not recognize floating behind him. Then, to Barty’s amazement, pulled a key from out of his robes and opened his cell but blocked his path so he couldn’t leave. Barty wanted to walk past the man, and run as fast as he could out of the wizarding prison, but the man stopped him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Wait,” The all too familiar voice whispered and plucked a hair out of Barty’s head. Lucius Malfoy’s voice was unmistakable. “This worked the last time I heard, it may not work again but it will definitely buy us some time.” Next, he plucked a hair form the unconscious man and placed them in separate potions bottles he pulled from his robe.  

He forced the potion down the unconscious body’s throat and they both watched as the man changed into an exact copy of Barty. “You’re turn,” Lucius whispered as he held the other bottle out to him. “You’ll need to switch clothes as well.”

“Of course I do,” Barty rolled his eyes, his adrenaline just beginning to pump through his veins.  When clothes were exchanged, the fake body of Barty Crouch Jr. was thrown out of the other side of the cell, his body phasing through the bars like they were smoke.

“How…” Barty started to ask.

“The wards repel wizards from escaping. Not muggles. They will forever question how you did it,” Lucius smirked.

“You made drink from a muggle? I’m wearing his fucking clothes?” Barty hissed. “That’s… That’s…”

“Going to be the only reason you escape. When has the wizarding government ever cared about the life of one muggle? They won’t even understand what happened, until it is far too. They won’t bother looking into it anyway with the disappearance of Potter.”  Lucius whispered. “Now come on, before someone notices the body falling out the window.”

Together, they made their way out of the prison; something Barty only thought would happen in chains. Barty savored every moment of his new freedom, but wasted no time in asking about his master.

“He is in as good heath as he can be in his current state. His power is growing with every passing moment,” Lucius informed him once they were far enough away.

“Excellent,” Barty clasped his hands together with a smile. “and the boy?”

Lucius stopped in his tracks. The bright sun looked out of place for the look of fear that temporarily passed over his face. “The boy is… alive.” He answered vaguely. “What do you know of his condition?”

Barty huffed. “More than you. Who do you think gathered all of the information on him? Once our master knew what to look for, it was easy. I was terrified the boy would sniff me out before the year’s end and kill me there and then. Came close to finding me out a time or two. It was complete luck that he did not discover my true identity. Obscurials don’t like being lied to I’ve heard. Why? What did he tell you?”

“It was more of what he showed us than anything. The boy killed Wormtail in front of us, and would have gone for Severus next if the Dark Lord had not stopped him,” Lucius told him. “It is difficult to believe that a creature like that is _Potter_ of all people, but perhaps that way of thinking is what got him into the mess he is in. Who would suspect the boy-who-lived of being a powerful magical creature?”

“That was exactly our masters thinking,” Barty grinned proudly.  

It took time, and several apparitions for anyone who might have been following them, but they finally made their way to the old Riddle Manor. The sun had already risen in the sky, and the few clouds in the sky did nothing to block its heat.

As they passed through the wards protecting the manor, Voldemort was alerted to their presence and was able to meet them as they walked in the door. “Welcome back my loyal friend,” he greeted Barty. “Excellent work Lucius. I assume that there were no complications?”

“None, my lord,” Lucius answered.

Barty bowed low in the presence of his lord. “Thank you for sending someone to rescue me,” he told his master. “I do not deserve it. I should have been more careful.”

“I can see no one more deserving than you. Without your help, I would not be here,” Voldemort told him fondly. “Rise. You need some well-earned rest. There is an empty room upstairs for you.” He gestured in the direction of the stairs.

“You are too kind,” Barty said sincerely and made his way up the stairs. He could hear Voldemort interrogating Lucius about every detail of his rescue from below, making sure that there was no chance that they could have been followed. It was a risky move placing Lucius Malfoy in a situation where he could have been so easily discovered, but his master wanted proof of his loyalty and if that meant risking everything to come and save him then that’s what Lucius would have to do.

He reached the first door he found, not thinking even bothering to knock. Instantly, he regretted his actions. What he found was the boy he had spent all year observing, sound asleep in bed. Barty froze the second he recognized his sleeping form. Harry lay on his side facing the door. One hand held tight to the blankets around him and the other lay next to his head, a thumb tucked behind his other fingers.

Barty thought that the boy looked so peaceful then. Form the year that he had experienced and from what Lucius had told him of what happened the night before, Barty figured that the boy had more than earned a good night’s rest.

He was about to leave the room as quietly as he could, but stopped when the boy suddenly shot up in bed as though awaking from a nightmare. Barty froze on the spot, unsure of what to do. He was sure that he had not made any noise to disturb him, but from the look on the boy’s face he didn’t think that mattered.

Harry looked afraid, terrified even, His eyes darted around the room like he wasn’t sure where he was. Barty was about to call down to his master and alert him to what happened but he did not need to. Voldemort burst into the room pushing him out in the process and shutting the door behind him.

Voldemort walked to the edge of the bed and knelt so that he was almost eye level with Harry. “You are still in the Manor,” Voldemort informed him. “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry looked at Voldemort with wide and fearful eyes and nodded.

“Good,” Voldemort smiled. “That means that there is one less thing to worry about.”

“That man. I know him,” Harry said turning his eyes back to the door.

“I am not surprised. That man is Barty Crouch Jr. He is the Death Eater I sent to infiltrate Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy just rescued him from Azkaban,” Voldemort told him truthfully. “He was caught trying to flee the school, and they were going to try to interrogate him until they knew what I was planning and where I was hiding.”

“I saw him,” Harry said shakily. “I saw him in one of Dumbledore’s memories. He helped torture Neville’s parents.”

“Yes, he did. And if it wasn’t for him, you would not be here, and you would have never gotten the chance to be free, to be safe. You still want that, don’t you?” Voldemort asked kindly.

Harry did not answer him.

“Look at you. You’re still shaking.” Voldemort sat on the edge of the bed next to Harry and pulled him close. To Harry’s surprise, he found Voldemort’s embrace to be more than welcoming and seemed to sink into his arms. He could not remember a time that he was comforted like this after a bad dream. The feeling of someone holding him was something he didn’t know that he still wanted. Sure, he always wanted to be held as a child, but he thought he had out grown the need for anything like this long ago.

Voldemort knew the thoughts going through the boy’s head even without looking at his face. Children in his situation were often touch starved, and he knew the boy would snatch up the chance of anyone giving him physical affection. He smirked as he started rubbing Harry’s back and he sank into the touch even more. Harry did not want it to end, but Voldemort eventually pulled away leaving Harry only wanting more.

“Feeling better?” The Dark Lord asked. Harry nodded and unintentionally, leaned in closer to the man next to him. “Good. We have a lot to do today, and you need to be at your best. I have a few things that will help you control yourself now that you are not taking any potions. But, you will have to trust me.”

“Did I really kill someone last night?” Harry asked warily. In his dream, he saw someone dying over and over again. Sometimes it was Cedric, others it was Wormtail. There was even a moment where he could swear that he was looking into the cold, dead eyes of his potions professor. He wasn’t sure if what he dreamt was true, so he had to ask.

“No one who did not deserve it. Wormtail had his fate coming to him for a long time.” Voldemort informed him. “You did almost kill another…”

Harry looked back up at him with wide and frightened eyes. “Snape?”

“You remember?” Voldemort asked curiously.

“I… remember attacking someone. I just felt so mad at them. And then I saw _him_ there. I was told over and over again to trust him, but there he was standing next to the other Death Eaters and I… I don’t know.” Harry looked confused at his actions of the night before. “I didn’t attack him?”

“No, you didn’t. I stopped you, do you remember that? Just in time, too. With what little trust we have forged between us, I was able to stop you from killing Severus. Can you imagine, with the trust you hold for others, what they would make you do while you are in that form?” Voldemort asked him.

“What do you mean?” Harry replied. “None of my friends would make me attack someone like that.”

“Oh, Harry. You are so young. We still have much to talk about.” Voldemort sighed. “But, later. I believe Barty is still in the hallway worried that he might have just destroyed his reputation. Come downstairs when you are ready, and we will get to work.”

Harry watched as Voldemort left the room, leaving him alone. He felt like with Voldemort, his future remained uncertain, but as long as he continued to receive attention from him like that, he wouldn’t mind sticking around. A part of him felt guilty for thinking such things, but a louder part was happy that at least now he would know what it was like to have someone take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta's romulusorion and darklordtomarry (both tumblr names) for helping me out. I never use beta's but with this chapter i desperately needed it. Deff more Harry/Voldemort in the next chapter
> 
> Wanna send me a Prompt? Find me on Tumblr! BigJellymonster.Tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I would love to hear your comments and suggestions! I also take prompts at BigJellyMonster.Tumblr.com


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